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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29391339">newton's law [hiatus]</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/shroomcritic/pseuds/shroomcritic'>shroomcritic</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dream SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Character Study, Cottagecore, Entirely Self-Indulgent, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Panic Attacks, Trauma, bad decisions galore, i ignore canon and write about dream picking flowers as a coping mechanism, this was written on a 9am tuesday kinda night, watch as i tag and have no idea what the fuck is happening, what more do you want</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:28:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,899</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29391339</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/shroomcritic/pseuds/shroomcritic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Newton's Third Law. "For every action, there is an opposite and equal reaction." </p><p>Dream has known this from the start, the small bit of school knowledge tucked away in the back of his mind, yet presented in everything he had done since the start. </p><p>Beauty is not without pain.</p><p>Victory is not without sacrifice.</p><p>Dream is familiar with this sentiment.<br/>-<br/>look, ya girl got finals. i cannot write a chapter when im freaking out about my french test. but don't worry. this fic will be back in like a week or so. just, yeah.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream &amp; GeorgeNotFound &amp; Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream &amp; Niki | Nihachu, Clay | Dream &amp; Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), No Romantic Relationship(s), i just need to wait for them to come, other characters will come lol</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>94</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. try to clutch at dawn, for you'll always fail</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>dream has watched the sunrise every morning. this sentiment has not stopped today either.  the brilliant myriad of colors brushes the sky overhead in a revitalizing glow, and dream cannot help but reach out and swirl the shades of dusk and dawn with his fingertips. his hand falls back however, for he cannot take the beauty of daybreak away from itself. and he knows this by now. </p>
<p>he turns and gets down from his little ledge on the roof of his house, the rough shingles leaving scrapes on his feet as he jumps from his spot. he swings through the open window of his small bedroom and pads his way across the room to his wardrobe, putting on a new skirt that appears in his closet each time niki comes for a visit to his cottage. every month she passes another homemade garment into his arms while gushing about how peaceful it is where he lives. he sometimes begs to differ, but he closes his mouth whenever niki has that subtle weariness in her eyes. </p>
<p>every so often, he would bake bread. it was stressful at first with niki showing him the ropes in her earlier visits, but it gradually turned into the only thing that calms him down after his night terrors. </p>
<p>last night he had a more vicious one than usual. he can still feel the tendrils of self-loathing and hatred curl themselves around his neck, choking him with malice as he measures out the flour, dumping it into a rough wooden bowl on the counter. </p>
<p>
  <em> “deep breaths, dream. in and out. you’re alright.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “niki, i can’t feel anything.”  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “why can’t i feel anything?” </em>
</p>
<p>the crackles of the furnace as he tends to the coals reminds him of sapnap. he misses that boy and his shouts and giggles. he was always a handful, the constant wildfire of a best frie-</p>
<p>the hot sparks of the furnace jump out at his skin, searing a quick pain onto his hands.</p>
<p>
  <em> right. sap’s not his friend anymore. silly mistake. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> he seems to make those often.  </em>
</p>
<p>he slides the pan of dough onto the baking grate carefully, and shuts the door of the oven shut. in a couple of hours, his hard work will pay off, and there’ll be fresh bread to eat once again. </p>
<p>
  <em> in a couple of days, his hard work will pay off. dream can feel it. the rustle of the trees as they take root in the soft soil beneath his feet. the cacophony of rivers and streams twisting their way into mountain sides and hilltops, a new source of water for the animals once they come in. he feels giant peaks of stone emerge from the ground as goosebumps on his skin. this world he is creating will be beautiful, he is certain. george and sapnap will love this.</em>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <em> “it’s… oh prime, dream. how long did this take you?” george’s eyes practically pop out of his head as he stutters the question out after the week passes, still not quite believing what’s happening. his eyes graze the newly made land before him, the smell of wildflowers tickling his nose. the treeline up in the distance seems foreboding, but only to those who try and harm. to him, it seems protective. of what, he wonders. “a couple of days or something,” dream shrugs nonchalantly, but a wheeze makes it past his lips anyways, betraying the cool demeanor dream is trying to pull. george’s eyes crinkle in that endearing way dream’s so fond of, a mirthful laugh escaping himself.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “you idiot.”  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> dream makes his way over to the edge of the cliff where george is stood, giving him a little jab in response. “but i’m your idiot.”  </em>
</p>
<p>the timer goes off. </p>
<p>
  <em> george shoves him gently. “i beg to differ.” dream stumbles a bit. huh. that was weird.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “is sapnap coming yet?” george asks.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> dream shakes his head, feeling a bit dizzy all of a sudden. “no-” the ground seems to sway beneath his feet.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “dream?” what the hell is happening to him? “dream, are you okay?” he thinks he can hear the other say something, but he’s a bit too busy collapsing to the ground to hear.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> oh well. george can tell him later. “DREAM!”  </em>
</p><hr/>
<p>the scent of freshly baked goods wafts past his nose. after pulling it out of the oven, he sets the pan down on a cooling rack nearby, being careful not to touch the edges of the metal and earn another scar. he’s had a lot of time to indulge in crafts that he never even spared a glance at before. baking has ended up being that thing that takes up a lot of his time now. with each loaf, each pan taken out, he can see the improvement. what used to be charcoal in color and smoky in odor has gradually remolded into a homely fragrance. it’s like he can almost smell each individual stalk of wheat that he harvested last autumn.</p>
<p>reaching up to an overhead shelf, he sets out the butter dish and the jar of jam preserves that he made last week down, letting his cat take a whiff of the condiments as she sashays by on the counter.</p>
<p>“hot, hot, hot, hot.” dream winces, his hands fumbling as he struggles to slice the bread with a knife. it hurts, but he’s proud. it often hurts to make something important, but the pain is meant to be worth it. dream knew this. </p>
<p>
  <em> dream can barely keep his eyelids from drooping back down, but he can still manage to hear every word that his friend is hissing out at him from his bedside. “you fucking idiot. no, even worse. a moron. why would you push yourself that hard? we didn’t need to have an entire server made in a shitting week, but no,” george draws out the no, his accent accentuating the disapproval even more. “you just had to be a wanker and do it anyways. and now you’ve been stuck in bed for two fucking weeks, and here i am rambling like a mad man-” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “george,” he croaks out. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> the sound of george’s voice abruptly stops, then rises once again in a high pitched screech. “dream!”  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> a groan erupts from the bed-ridden patient and george rushes to find a cloth, wetting the cloth in a bucket of water nearby and folding it onto his friend’s febrile forehead. the sensation of the cool fabric hitting his skin is sensational to the admin.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “wow, talking about me behind my back huh? a low blow from you, gogy.” he gets a soft smack on the head in reply. “shut up, you dumb little- y’know what, i’m getting sapnap. he has a few words he wants to say too.”  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> dream lets out another whine, “by the enders, please no. i get it. i’m sorry.”  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> george waggles his fingers in a teasing manner, his face donning a smirk too full of mischief for dream’s liking. “nu-uh. the arson boy is pissed.” and then he makes his way over to the small cot, and presses a fleeting kiss to dream’s forehead. “and worried,” george murmurs.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> not even five minutes later, a crash announces a certain raven-haired nightmare has entered. he practically catapults himself onto his friend, earning a weak ‘oof’. dream can still handle a small laugh at sapnap’s antics however. “i’m alright, i’m not dead.” sapnap scowled.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “you fucking looked like it man. do you think it’s fun seeing some european dude-”  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “hey!”  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “-stumbling through the door trying to shoulder someone ten times heavier than them, who looks dead on their feet?”  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “i don’t know, must’ve been funny to see though,” dream muses. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> a heavy sigh reverberates through the small camp they’ve managed to set up in a hurry. “dude, you shouldn’t have pushed yourself that hard. you didn’t even need to put that much effort into this, we just needed a small server to screw around on.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> dream’s eyes soften as they look at the troubled gaze on the face of their brother in everything but blood. he reaches his hand out, and sapnap leans his head down slightly so dream can smooth out the wrinkles on their forehead with his thumb. “i wanted to give you guys something special. something like this was bound to take a lot out of me, sapnap. if something is to be taken-” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “-then something of equal value must be returned, yada-yada. still doesn’t mean you should be putting one foot in the grave so soon though, okay buddy?”  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> while leaning against the doorway watching the two, george cuts in with a smull hum in agreement. dream laughs out loud for the first time in a while. “for you guys? anything.”   </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>OH BOY OH BOY.<br/>this project has been in the works for months lmao, i've given up trying to make everything pertain to canon and threw all caution to the wind.<br/>i don't expect clout from this, i don't expect anyone to find this actually. this is very self-indulgent obviously. i will explore his character somewhat, that was the original intent of this fic. however, it has somehow devolved to crack-induced writing hysteria where i shove dream into a cotton skirt and make him prance around his little cottage.<br/>if anything this is more for me than you lmao, nothing like not paying for therapy and writing fanfiction instead.<br/>i will try to include as many realistic depictions of dream's mental health as i possibly can, however, writing about things like this is out of my comfort zone, and articulating another fictional character's thoughts are hard when you can't even articulate your own. so inaccuracies to how dream has handled events in the smp are bound to appear.<br/>if you did read this, thank you lol. i'm glad to have you here as i freak out over ao3 formatting and patches.<br/>ciao, i'll see you all very soon.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. a worker will hide the cuts on his hands</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>dream is finishing up the last few walls of the shed. splinters from the planks of wood he was nailing dig into his skin, but the comforting smell of sanded spruce logs comfort him from this small annoyance. this’ll be a beauty once he’s done with it. sure, dream’s built better things, but this little tool shed holds a special place in his heart now. he’s probably gone overboard with it again; it’s almost as ornate as the cottage he built. but dream pays no mind this time and hammers a nail in.</p>
<p>
  <em> if he were here, dream thinks phil would like it. the man always liked building. that’s one of the reasons why dream whitelisted him.  </em>
</p>
<p>he steps back a bit and tries to assess the organized mash of wood and stone in front of him. </p>
<p>“a bit sloppy on this side, i should sand it out more,” he mumbles to himself. he turns to the side and reaches into his chest of tools, getting out a small piece of sandpaper and attends to the wood once again, taking care to not shave off too much. </p>
<p>
  <em> “y’know dream, i’ve never seen your house. do you even have one?”  </em>
</p>
<p>he finishes sanding and dusts his hands off.</p>
<p>
  <em> dream shifts from one foot to the other. “i do have a house, it’s just very far away,” he explains. his rival is not taking it.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “yeah? where’s your house then?” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “i have a house, techno. it’s just very far from here-” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “oh yeah, you wouldn’t know my house, it goes to another school-” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “i have a house techno.”  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “he’s homeless, chat-” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> dream turns sharply towards the other, the cold arctic air whipping around at his cloak. “i have a house!”  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> techno crosses his arms in frank disbelief, and dream thinks he can feel his own eye twitching. he never liked the pig hybrid getting the upper-hand anyways. it’s almost nightmarish how well techno can read him.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> dream pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “i’ll bring you to it one day, alright?” </em>
</p>
<p>“i think that’s enough for one day. we can finish the shed tomorrow, right patches?”</p>
<p>a pitched meow erupts from seemingly nowhere in reply, but he can spot the culprit rounding the side of a tree and padding to his side soon enough. </p>
<p>dream chuckles. “loving the enthusiasm here, kitty. let’s go back home, yeah?”</p><hr/>
<p>
  <em> “how the mighty hath fallen. isn’t it almost poetic?” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> in the corner of the dingy cell is a head, topped with brambles of matted, brass hair which turns ever so slightly towards the newcomer’s voice. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> attached to that head is a neck, with faint scars wrapped around, the wounds red and blistered, the skin barely healed over and delicate to the touch. fragile. breakable. to that neck is a body; clad in tattered, orange garments. its limbs are thin and spindly, a very obvious sign of malnourishment and a lack of physical stimulation. a dangerous combination; one that’s strong enough to kill. and if you somehow manage to sew every part back together, patch the calloused fingers and mend two mangled feet, to stitch together the crooked back and the hollowed cheeks, then you will find that what, or who, you are looking at- is the once powerful admin of the dream smp. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> a light yet weighted laugh echoes through the dark chasms of pandora’s box. molten lava bubbles around the two friends’ feet, painting each in an orange glow, the warrior in a mighty brilliance, the puppetmaster in a pitiful heat.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “a poem would not be enough for the tragedies that i’ve gone through. you can write all the verses you want, build stanza upon stanza, but the shit that we’ve seen would outrival the iliad.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “never knew you were such a wordsmith,” the latter says with a raised brow, pointed and sharp. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “i never had the choice to show it off. i mean, who listens to words anyways? they’re useless in this smp after all, but you of all people would know that. wouldn’t you, oh mighty blood god.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> rough laughs burst from the pink-haired soldier, surprising the brooding inmate in the midst of his monologue for a fleeting second. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> techno calms himself, and waves his hand around in mock non-chalantness before his face turns serious, then levels his gaze with dream.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “we’re getting you out of here, dream. this isn’t where you’re meant to be.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>dream gets up from his spot in the room, and makes his way over to the netherite barricade between him and techno. "so you would say, this wasn’t meant to be?” the blond echoes, a tired smirk painted on his lips, cracked and dry.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “spare me the villain one-liners. i refuse to have the one man that can match me in combat rot away in a dark hole of despair. even tommy’s dirt house would be better living accommodations than this travesty.” techno turns his nose up in disdain. “not even a potted plant.”  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “i have a clo-” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “i know, trust me. tommy wouldn’t shut up about it when he visited for the first time. he kept saying it was childish of you to have such an attachment to an item as pointless as that.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “oh, so you’ve talked to him then?” dream’s face flickers with amusement. “have you made up with the ‘big man’ already?”  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> the other snorts, but his eyes hold a somberness that he doesn’t bother to try and hide. you couldn’t hide an attachment from dream after all, not even the great blood god can. they both knew this. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> dream cocks his head to the side. “no?” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “your prison warden,” techno hisses suddenly, “has kept that brat under lock and key from the rest of us. parading tommy around like he’s suddenly family. i have to hide behind bushes and buildings alike and eavesdrop just to hear the kid say a single sentence. it’s the most idiotic, bumbling, foolish-” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “you’re jealous.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “-the epitome of stupidity-” and techno pauses. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> dream has that gaze in his eyes again, that all-knowing stare. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>he hates it, techno hates him and that look. “you’re jealous that tommy isn’t with you and phil, right?” he says, as though it were a universal truth; a well-known fact that can’t be refuted. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “i’m not- well, i mean if you look at it from- i-” dream shakes his head.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> techno’s not boding well with this abrupt accusation. he doesn’t like it, because it’s a lie. it’s false, because techno hated the kid. tommy betrayed him, stole his armor, his food, his weapons, even his own house, so why would he be- </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “i am not.” techno breathes out shakily, crimson eyes angered, backlit by the cascades of lava behind them and making techno look as though he’s ablaze. “i’m not jealous, i’m not.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> the admin hums a little song (he can hear the rapidly increasing rise and fall of techno’s breathing, he’s on the verge of a fit again. he should’ve broken the news gentler), trying to coax the elder into calming down. his voice was never much of a comfort though, that was always wilbur’s department when it came to techno. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> the cell seems even more placid than when dream had been alone, the rivals at an impasse. “talk to him, techno. he’s your brother-”  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “he’s betrayed us-” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “he’s a child. a stupid, naive teenager who still doesn’t have a lick of sense in that head of his. he wanted his family, his home back, techno, just as i did.” dream raises his head sharply. “talk to the kid after i escape. you need to get your emotions in check and get your head out of your ass.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “says the man who tried killing his best friend and locking him in a state-of-the-art prison.” techno bristles. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “i’m clinically insane and mentally unstable, techno. all you’ve done is be emotionally stunted for the majority of your life.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> techno opens his mouth to retort, but dream cuts him off. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “we’ve all blown up a country or two in this server, techno. you’re not beyond repair.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “look-“ the pig-hybrid’s nostrils flare- “enough psycho-analyzing me. i don’t get paid enough to deal with a psychopath evaluating my emotions and holding an intervention. do you want to escape or not.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> and for the first time in weeks, dream can feel that thrill again. the slight rush that used to flow through his veins daily, that dizziness that came with taking risks and running head-first into danger. he misses it. being reckless.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>he grins sharply. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"if i must.”  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>yes dear, i know it's been two weeks since i last updated and i had ample opportunity to write a much higher-quality chapter and instead used the free time i had to work through my quote-on-quote "sadness." </p>
<p>no lmao though i'm actually sorry this fic chapter took so long to write. i spent two weeks brainstorming ideas and then 2 hours actually writing the damn thing so i don't really know how that works.<br/>thank you to my wife, lover, friend, etc. @n_owsy for being a beta-reader. if you can, please check out her works. she is one of the greatest authors of our generation and it would mean the world to the both of us if you dropped a kudo.<br/>with that being said, i hope you all enjoyed anyways. drink some water, take care of yourselves and so on.<br/>mwah, love you all!</p>
<p>edit: hello again! just came back to say that this fic is now definitely not canon anymore! we now most absolutely pretend that dream still had some morals left and that he ran away into the woods before today's stream happened! i am in pain! also plugging my twitter so you all can cry with me :') @wandering_mamu</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. burn your king, or shall you remain a pawn?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>silent footsteps shuffle along with carpeted forest floors, the leaves on the ground crinkling their soft melody as a sprightly little feline makes her way ahead of her owner. </p><p>“slow down patches, i can’t keep up with you while looking at this map every second," a low voice chuckles.</p><p> the cat pays no heed to the cloaked man behind her, opting to meander as always. dream softly exhales, looking down and squinting as he struggles to make out the small figures on the paper in front of him. </p><p>
  <em> the village should be up ahead. </em>
</p><p> today is a trading day. he needs some new books from the librarian and bottles o’ enchanting; his supply started running low a few days ago. his pouch of emeralds jangles on his hip with every step he takes. and out in the distance, dream can make out a faint puff of smoke. </p><p>“we’re here, patches.” she lets out a small mew, and dream reaches down to scratch at her ears before quickly standing back up. he rolls the map up and tucks it into his satchel, then trudges on to the outskirts of the village. </p><p>he’s reminded of his speedrunning days, before he decided to settle down and become a server admin. if he closes his eyes, then he can almost pretend like it’s just another run, and his next job as of this moment is to find some hay bales to plunder and an iron golem to slay.</p><p>but freedoms like that are few and far between on this server. so he doesn’t linger on memories of old, of a childhood he’s not allowed to have in his possession anymore, and carries on. </p><p>the clanging of a weaponsmith striking at an anvil is the first thing he hears as he enters the humble town. then some not-so-quiet murmurs from gossiping town residents, but he pays no attention to them, drifting from one trading villager to the next instead.</p><p>
  <em> dream huffs, swiping through the trading screen hovering it front of him, past the rotten radishes and moldy bread. he’s been on the run from the other server members for a while, surely he has to be rewarded for his efforts now. and yet- </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “no actual food? nothing?” </em>
</p><p><em> “hrm,” the villager sounds in response, albeit it sounds a bit snarky. what was up his ass? dream just wanted some bread. guess he has to pull out </em> <b> <em>that</em> </b> <em> card now. </em></p><p>
  <em> “fine. uh- shit how did it go, um- humh heregh?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> the beady eyes of the farmer widen. “hm. hrmm, hurgh himm urgh.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> it’s been a while since dream has talked in fluent villager; he’s never used it often after he settled down and stopped speedrunning, but the ability has always been tucked in the back of his mind. it takes a bit for him to fully translate what the farmer is saying, but he gets the gist after a lengthy ten-minute conversation with the latter.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “so your iron golem got captured by pillagers, and now you have no one to protect you while you tend to your crops?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> the other drones out another reply and dream’s mind rushes to interpret their words.  “yes, that is what i said. you are an admin, no? then surely you can help us with this predicament.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> dream mulls it over, and he knows he’s in a bit of a pinch right now in terms of time. but he’s taken out pillage camps before during some speedrunning attempts. he could do it. but helping hasn’t really been his forte from the start.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> he huffs, his mind, unfortunately, made up. “point me to where they took your golem.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> if dream can see the tired farmer hide a small smile at his decision, he doesn’t mention it.  </em>
</p><hr/><p>dream hands over the last of his emeralds to the librarian, the latter stashing the verdant currency in a chest nearby. the sounds of villagers thumbing through pages of aged novels and texts surround the human customer, and he breathes in the wisps of wet ink and busy minds. hushed whispers whirl around him as the inhabitants of the local bookshop shuffle from place to place, and dream closes his eyes for just a second as zephyrs, cheerful and eager, blow in from the open windows nearby and ruffle his hair. </p><p>he missed it here. </p><p>“last one in stock for a while, so do try to use it wisely,” the shopkeeper warns playfully as they press an enchanting book into the other’s hands. </p><p>dream can’t help but retort, his lips upturned in a grin. “not my fault i spend all my time trying to upgrade my weapons. this village needs my axe skills a lot more nowadays, who can blame me for wanting a good blade?”</p><p>the librarian lifts an eyebrow at the admin’s antics. even though it was meant as a joke, the small town <em> does </em>know that dream saves their village more than their own golem at this point. they can’t help but be thankful, he’s done a lot for them in the long run. </p><p>“fine, fine. but don’t come crying when your favorite netherite sword needs a new sharpness IV enchantment and there’s suddenly no books available,” the villager says. “besides, you might be up for some competition, dream. there was a new pillager attack just last week, and you weren’t the one who came swooping in to save us this time.”</p><p>stashing the glossy book in his satchel, he lets out a little hum. “really? i don’t suppose ralph actually fought them off this time?” </p><p>the other snorts. “that rusty iron golem? don’t get me wrong, we all love ol’ ralph, but the whole town knows he’s on his last limb even after all those iron replacements from you. retirement is where he ought to stay. no, it wasn’t him. some pink haired man. they refused to give us their name though, but-” and the villager leans in to tell dream this closer, the other copying the movement. “-that man was...  scary. he didn’t even bat an eye, just starting disarming everyone, quick as lightning.” </p><p>dream stills as his hand turns to open the door leading out of the shop. “pink hair?” dream mumbles. that's weird, he can't recall any- <em> pink hair.  </em></p><p>“he looked a bit sad killing the ravager though, wonder what that was about.” </p><p>dream takes a sharp breath, his hand slightly scrambling to get the door. how could he have found dream out here? he was thousands of blocks away from the actual smp; he made sure of that! there’s no way he could’ve found him, no fucking way. it was impossible. </p><p>
  <em> so how come- </em>
</p><p>“we offered to give them a place to stay for the night, they looked like they’ve been traveling for weeks-” the librarian shook their head- “but he refused us anyway, said he was dealing with an ‘urgent’ matter. we couldn’t hold up a man who looked as desperate as he did, so we let him go.”</p><p>
  <em> the one thing, the one fucking thing he asked of him, and he still went and disregarded him anyways.  </em>
</p><p>“and- ah, do you know which direction he went?”</p><p>the store owner gave him a curious look. “why? you wanna go find him?”</p><p><em> quite the opposite actually, it’s so he can’t find me. </em>“well, it’s been a while since the last adventure i had, whatever this man is looking for, maybe i can help him,” dream says. a lie, one that leaves a burnished aftertaste in his mouth. </p><p>the villager tittered. "always the samaritan, aren't you? he went towards the west entrance in the village, if my memory has not failed me yet.” <em> fuck. </em>“then again, it’s been a couple of days, dream. he could be anywhere by now.” the other turns, throwing a glance behind them as they say this. </p><p>that was true, and dream wants to curse his old rival right there and then for that. techno and him were the exact same when it came to their sense of direction. unpredictable, and at times, unbearably stupid. oh, how he used to laugh at that uncanny similarity, harsh giggles and light shoves flood his thoughts, and a fleeting smile from a worn soldier is what turns the rushing waves into a downpour. </p><p>but now it’s nothing but another inconvenience. for fuck’s sake, he can’t even run away right. </p><p>silence permeates the entire room. the vendor resolves to silently trace the curves in the wooden counter with a faint disinterest after dream’s lack of an answer.</p><p> “i’ll be on my way then.” dream opens the door finally. “uh, stay safe.”</p><p>the villager looks up and manages to send him out with a laugh. “you too, sir! don’t forget to use that book wisely!” but they both notice how it’s laced with a forced cheeriness and concerned looks. </p><p>dream doesn’t look back.</p><hr/><p>the stars peek begin to peek out around him soon enough, and a slight breeze dances around as he trudges home, his cloak swishing around his ankles. patches is indifferent to her owner’s newfound somber mood, as always. his hands curl around the base of his lantern tightly, the light flickering faintly as the lamp shakes from the sheer force of his grip. lanky branches and leaves from dark oak overhead catch on his hair, but dream is much too busy panicking over what he is going to do with the information he’s gained from today’s trip to notice.</p><p>
  <em> oh my fucking ender what the hell was he going to do.  </em>
</p><p>he comes out of the thick underbrush soon enough, the torches he’s placed down coaxing him home with a tepid glow, and he makes his way into a grassy clearing. dream’s mind is racing as he goes over to the animal pens nearby, the gravelly crunches of a path sounding under his feet. he absently makes sure that his cow, beth, has her favorite blanket, and his chickens, stella, susanna, and sally are tucked away in their coops for the night. frantic thoughts and half-assed escape plans cloud his mind as he moves on to his crops, affirming that they haven’t been squashed by any wild critters that came from the dark oak forest around them. but nothing he’s coming up with <em> works </em>; he can’t run away this time, not from the home that he's given his blood, sweat, and tears for.</p><p>lo and fucking behold, he’s become attached. and it’s working against him again. </p><p>making his way into his small hut after finishing up the last of today’s chores, he hangs up his cloak on a hook nearby, and a ragged exhale rings throughout the small entrance of the cottage. he doesn’t want to be found. after fucking months, he was finally at peace, he can’t throw that away now. he was supposed to be content finally. he was supposed to <em> heal. </em></p><p>
  <em> but of course he can’t have that. that’s not what he’s meant to do, is he?  </em>
</p><p>because the world isn’t done with him yet. the narrative hasn’t finished. the king hasn’t been captured yet. he hasn’t cut his strings at all, has he? but he’s played his cards; and he played them well. he had to.</p><p>“dream,” a man with a crown on his head says.</p><p>
  <em> so why has he been dealt another deck? </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>GOOD FUCK YES HELLO I WAS GOING TO PACE MYSELF AND POST THIS CHAPTER LIKE A WEEK AFTER TODAY BUT YA BOy MAKES BAD LIFE DECISIONS AS MENTIONED PREVIOUSLY ANYWAYS</p><p>i need an uploading schedule so fucking bad i hate it here i really do mmmmmmm<br/>also like 45 kudos??? hello?? ty holy shit i didn't actually anticipate more than like 10 hits just look at me go.<br/>thank you to @downthedarkpath for being my beta. again, please go check her out because she's such a beautiful author. quite frankly she deserves the world.<br/>yeah no anyways, drink some water, take care of yourself. do the bare minimum for self-care, you deserve that much at least &lt;2 mwah, i hope you all have enjoyed!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. do not cry freedom when there isn't rust on your chains</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>it’s starting to get late. at this point, dream would’ve been turning in for the night and getting under his covers, lulling himself to sleep while he listened to the blades of grass and trees and forest outside his window as they flitted about in the wind. </p><p>“earl grey?” </p><p>so he has no idea why tonight should’ve been any different. </p><p>“you have tea?” </p><p>dream takes his hand off of the rusted kettle, giving a single glance behind him. </p><p>at the highness who has decided to grace his humble abode. </p><p>he turns back and attends to the rapidly boiling water in front of him, “are there any special requirements to having tea inside your own home?” the kettle sounds. “or is it because it’s me,” dream turns the heat down, “that’s making the tea you’re about to drink?” </p><p>no response. </p><p>“eret, why are you here?” </p><p>the ruler flashes a smile, one full of exhaustion and melancholy and grudge. one that would never be directed towards anyone else other than dream. </p><p>“if it does anything, i didn’t know it was you who lived here at first. nothing like stumbling through the woods on a late-night walk and seeing a random cottage. i’m a curious man, by all means. you’d know that.”</p><p>the room they’re in is small. cozy most mornings, but now all dream can feel is like he’s trapped in that damned obsidian box again. moonlight whispers through stained glass windows and the pot shakes as he pours two cups of tea. </p><p>one for him. and one for his guest. </p><p>
  <em>his friend. his enemy. the one who betrayed and the one who he has betrayed. the king. </em>
</p><p>“i presume that this is where you’ve run off to? never pegged you as the person who’d live in a small cottage, dream.” </p><p>“well, it’s nice out here. there’s grass,” dream looks out of the window near the sink. “and there’s. y’know, crops and animals. lots of animals actually.” he hears velvet rustling behind him as eret shifts in his chair. “it’s nice out here. peaceful.” </p><p>dream purses his lips. he can feel a slight movement in the air. </p><p>“sit down.” </p><p>“i am.”</p><p>dream’s face stays hidden by the partition between the kitchen and the small eating nook of the cottage, but his voice gains a sudden strength that the inhabitants of the dream smp have heard time and time again, one that steals your breath away and roots you to the very spot you’re standing on. unmoving. “you’re not.”</p><p>“dream-” he really doesn’t want to hear this, doesn’t want to hear another word from the person who he’s strung on a line since the beginning. he arranges the tray of tea; placing cream and sugar in the middle. his hands are gripping the cups of earl grey-</p><p>“eret, i don’t know if you’ve noticed. but i’m not happy about you being here. i was on the run for months, but only now i’ve decided to settle down. now, there are a few possibilities here for you coming here in the dead of night to talk with me. and all of them-” dream barks a laugh. “-are as equally stupid as the rest. you’re not a fucking idiot, eret. you know when you have the winning hand. but just in case-</p><p>“if you do anything-” dream comes out from behind the partition, carrying the tea out to the oak table. “-to ruin what i have built, i might just burn the entire smp to the ground.”</p><p>eret shifts his sunglasses, turning his head to the side with his brows pulled in a furrow. “you wouldn’t,” he lets out carefully, as though he were talking to a steadily increasing rabid animal, and it’d only be a matter of seconds before he was on the ground with fangs around his neck. dream places the drinks down.</p><p>“and why is that?”</p><p>“i don’t think,” eret takes a slow breath. “you’re like that.”</p><p>
  <em>fangs. </em>
</p><p>the tray is knocked to the ground in an instant; dream lunging for eret from across the table, and eret’s head collides with a dull ache with the wall behind him. the sounds of porcelain are heard shattering on the varnished woods beneath. shards of painted clay are scattered throughout on the flooring. milky tea is puddling on oak and spruce. dream’s hands tremble as they ball up in the latter’s shirt. </p><p>“let me make one thing clear.”</p><p>eret stares into the feral admin’s face. maskless, bared, and almighty. there are waves of green crashing onto shores in verdant forests in the eyes so ferociously revealed to him, bronze lightning striking down soaring plains of sage and hickory. the wooden frames of the wall behind him dig into his skin, and cold tea is long forgotten.</p><p>dream can feel his own words buzzing through him. “i am capable of razing my entire server to the ground. it is already on its last limbs, do you understand? i have already ruined it beyond repair. you have all fucked it up, but it is me who has taken and given to these lands the most,” the winds howl outside, shrieking a horrid song that sets into eret’s bones and makes him feel like an eternity. “more than you will ever know.”</p><p>“you won’t,” eret grits his teeth.<em> why is this man so fucking strong?  </em>“you won’t though. you love this server too much.” the grip on eret’s shirt tightens at these words. </p><p>“it’s not mine to love anymore.”</p><p>he gasps for breath. “you own this server.” </p><p>and dream laughs. it’s one that wrenches deep, sickly and hallowed and eret’s entire body is telling him to run. but eret can’t stop talking now, he needs to know <em> why. </em>“you own this server, it’s something that’s been with you since the start. you can’t find it in yourself to truly ruin it.”</p><p>the fingers that are clutched in his cloak release and eret slumps to the ground, heaving for air in the most suffocating room he’s ever been in.</p><p>“i will not hesitate to give you that knife in the back we’ve spoken so fondly about, eret. respect is nothing here,” dream whispers softly. “get out of my fucking home.” </p><p>eret’s eyes follow the admin’s back as dream turns and walks away, and he can see towering walls being built in front of him again. they’re sealed tight, not letting anyone in or out. just like last time.</p><p>he gets up from his spot on the floor and goes back the other way to walk out the door. gusts of night air bite at his cheeks as he steps outside the cottage. he feels the weight of betrayal snaking around his ankles again and rigid backs and sharp words and declarations of independence or death. he shuts his eyes, feels the forests fall around him. and the lone king finally leaves the broken home. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>the hardest chapter i've written so far. prime fucking damn i despise writing confrontation scenes everyone. also, i changed the tags because i feel as though i should be a *teensy* bit more professional and actually tell y'all what you will find in this fic lol. </p><p>also im so sorry for doing eret wrong, i love the man, don't get me wrong. but sometimes i just wanna take dsmp!eret by the shoulders and just throttle him (why is he sO HARD TO WRITE FUCK-) the characterizations are a bit wonky because of this, but i hope y'all still enjoyed! </p><p>and thank you to elleza archiveofourown for being my beta-reader. she writes wonderful fics, and she's recently collabed with another skilled author called mitikune. you can read the work (there's phil, techno, and tommy, and i won't spoil crap, but it's good ass writing) <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30021915">you can find said fic here!</a> also, make sure to check out some of their other works. drink some water, and take care of yourselves loves &lt;2</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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